


Numbers and codes

by Delphini_Lestrange



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-05-01 11:15:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14519310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delphini_Lestrange/pseuds/Delphini_Lestrange
Summary: Rules--if you add a number, it changes the personality-people start off with six numbers-babies are born with all zeros-the numbers don’t appear in photos





	1. Chapter 1

As the sun sets, the sky fades from a dark periwinkle blue to a soft salmon pink, making it look like the sky is blushing. I watch the quiet waves rush into each other, forming white foam at the tips as they move. I put my hand into Mike’s, who’s sitting next to me, and turn his large hand so that I can see his wrist. I pause. ‘It doesn’t look like the ones from the lab. Good.’ “What’s this?” I wonder, pointing to a tattoo I’ve just discovered. “When’d you get it?” I look up at him, my eyes curious. He looks back at me, his cool, blue eyes startled and confused. “What are you talking about?” He questions. “This tattoo. Is it new? What does it mean?” I reply, a little anxious. “I don’t have any tattoos. Is this a joke? There’s nothing on my arm.” He says, his brow furrowed. I touch the tattoo now. It’s an array of numbers. 203754. “You don’t see it?” I ask frantically, freaking out. “You’re probably just tired. Do you wanna go home?” He prods. I nod quickly. “Just drop me off at my house. I’ll see you again tomorrow. Sorry.” I say. He gives me a concerned face, but says nothing. 

We get up off of the sand and dust it off of our legs. Walking side by side, and still holding hands, I feel bad that I’ve made Mike worry about me. A few other people pass us by. I look at their arms as they carry various colors of bags, each containing sunscreen and towels. My eyes stop scanning when they fall on the wrist of a young woman, probably in her twenties. I can’t read it from here, but there’s definitely a bold array of numbers on her wrist. I look over at her partner. He has one too. Matching tattoos? I think. Scanning, I look over to my left. My eyes fall on a little girl playing with an inflatable beach ball. Her hand stretches out to the sky, and I notice a mark on her wrist. I look around frantically. Not many people are here, but the few that are all have these strange numbers on their inner wrists. I look down and try not to pay attention to anything but my feet in the warm sand, the setting sun, and Mike walking beside me.   
The car ride home is a long one. I keep checking my own wrist, but there are no numbers. Why can’t Mike see it? If it was anyone else, I would think it was a trick, but he wouldn’t do that. I know him really well. I watch through the car window as the different colored cars whoosh by. My windows are half open, and it helps to cool me in the Florida heat. The palm trees sway softly in the breeze, setting a calm feeling. I don’t feel calm, though. Something’s wrong. I just don’t know what it is yet. I haven’t gotten my license yet, but Tyler has, so he’s the one driving. We don’t talk for the rest of the way, which doesn’t stop my mind from running around in my head.

Mike pulls up in front of my house, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek as I leave his car. “Bye.” I wave, and run to my house in the heat. I scramble to open the door. I’m tired. I bet the “tattoo” was probably my brain just messing with me. A wave of cool air from inside my house greets my face as I enter. I can smell the lemon cookies baking in the oven. My mom always makes those on Thursdays. “Mom, Dad, I’m going to my room.” I call out. “Why so soon?” My mom enters the corridor, her shoulder length brown bob bouncing as she walks. “This might sound weird, but can I see your wrist for a sec?” I ask. Mom raises her brows, but holds out her wrist nonetheless. There’s a mark. 754982. I feel nauseous. “You don’t have any tattoos there, right? No marks with numbers?” I hesitate, my voice shaky. “No, honey. Where’s this coming from?” Mom insists, worried. “Never mind. Sorry. I’m tired, I should go.” I say.

I head up to my room, my legs wobbly. My room is on the second floor of the house, with a path of wooden steps leading up to it. I rest my hands on the peeling green wallpaper of the walls as I stumble up the stairs. Why can only I see these marks? Does everyone have them, or just certain people? Why don’t I have one? Why did they just appear today? What do they mean? All the questions whirl around in my head. I can’t think. No one else can see them. I want to know what these marks mean, but I have no idea where to start.


	2. Chapter 2

I call Mike before I go to bed. “El?” He urges. “Yeah. Hey, Mike. You know how I asked if you had a tattoo earlier?” I ask the second he picks up. “Yeah? What was that all about?” He answers. “Well you do. Everyone does. You just don’t see it. Either I’m hallucinating, or everyone has wrist tattoos.” I smile. Mike stays quiet for a few moments. “Are you on some sleeping meds? Caffeine high?” He jokes. I snort, then start laughing like crazy. “I’m not high, if that’s what you’re getting at. You know me better than that. Hear me out.” I chuckle. He pauses again, then speaks. “Okay. What does my tattoo say?” Mike asks, his raspy voice growing evidently weary. “Numbers. I don’t remember exactly what it was. Maybe you can send me a picture of your arm?” I share, thinking. “Okay. Let’s see.” He says, and hangs up. A few moments later, I get a text of Tyler’s arm. I freeze. There’s no mark. I dial his number again. “Mike?” I say. “Yeah?” He replies. “Um, so it didn’t appear on the photo. Maybe I can only see it in person. But, uh, the first two digits were two-oh.” I explain, my voice shaking. “Are you sure this is real?” Tyler falters. He doesn’t believe me. 

“Yeah. Everyone I’ve seen today has one.” I say. “Okay. What’s yours?” He asks cautiously. “Uhh... I don’t know? I can’t really see my own.” I reply unsteadily. “Okay. Well, I’m trying to believe you. Good night.” Mike whispers. “Good ni-” I start. He cuts me off by hanging up. 

I can’t sleep. I’ve been lying in bed for about two and a half hours now. I bet Mike thinks I’m insane. I think I’m insane. Is it normal to see something no one else sees? As far as I know, I’m not schizophrenic. A thought creeps up on me. What if I tried to add a number? It might result in a catastrophe. It may make the person happier, or do nothing at all. I want to do it. It feels awful, going back and forth on the pros and cons. I don’t want to play God. Still, I really want to know what would happen, and what the marks mean. I don’t even know if the numbers will still be there tomorrow. I stare up at my dark gray ceiling, the corner of my room with a crack across it. It’s an old house, but it’s not scary. I roll over onto my side. I hate that I’m even considering experimenting on a person. Maybe I should try on someone I barely know, pretend I’m doing an interview on them. 

I meet up with Mike in the morning at my house. I barely got any sleep. He doesn’t even say hi, just gets right to it. “Do you see my number?” He raises his eyebrows, holding out his wrist. “Two oh three, seven five four.” I read. He frowns. “Any idea what it means?” He asks. I shake my head. “There is something I wanna try though.” I hesitate. He looks at me, giving a mental nudge to keep going. “Maybe, since I’m the only one who can see them, I can add a number.” I propose. His eyes light up with curiosity. “What would happen if you did that?” He asks. “I don’t know.” I say. “That’s why I wanna try.” 

Mike offers to let me write a number on his wrist. “Are you sure?” I question. “Yeah. He says. What could happen?”


	3. Chapter 3

Mike holds out his arm, and I roll up his grey sleeves to reveal the sequence of numbers on his wrist. I don’t know how to do this. My first guess is to write it with a marker. Maybe because I’m the only one who can see the numbers, I can add them. I hesitate, and Mike gives me a reassuring smile. I smile back, and pop open the cap of a black permanent marker and write a large nine on his wrist. 2037549. Mike blinks. “Can you see it?” I ask. “Why do you keep going on about this? I bet you’re just doing this for attention.” Mike snaps. “What?” I say, startled. “You literally can’t focus on anything else, it’s so annoying. What the heck do you mean, can I see it? There’s nothing to see. You didn’t write anything. There’s nothing on my arm, you little bitch.” He’s raising his voice now, yelling. “Mike? What happened?” I ask, my eyes filling with tears. “I’ve never liked you anyway. You’ve killed my reputation enough. I hate you. You’re way too clingy. Bye, . I hate you, you Bitch.” He yells, standing up. I can’t breathe. This isn’t Mike. Not my Mike. What have I done? He leaves the room, slamming the door at his exit. 

I collapse on the floor in loud, heaving sobs. How did I make such a bad mistake? Do the numbers determine personality? How do I fix it, if it’s already embedded in his skin? He said he couldn’t see it. I don’t know how to fix it. I can’t fix it. How do I fix it? Can someone help me?! I’ve been dating Mike for about 4 years now, since I turned 13. I’ve liked him for six. How did everything crash and burn so easily? I’m such an idiot. 

I think we broke up. I’m not sure if we did. He just said bye, and left. I’m not sure what to do. I managed to get up and drag myself up to my room, but from here I can’t do much. I hear a knock on my door. “El?” I hear my mom’s voice calling. “Are you alright?” She says. “I’m fine.” I mumble from underneath many piles of bedsheets. “No you’re not. Let me in.” Comes her muffled voice. Grumbling, I crawl across my room toward the door and open it. My mom takes in my sad appearance. “Oh, honey, what happened?” She asks, concerned. “Me and Mike broke up.” I said. It was all my fault, but I’m not about to tell her that. My mom comes into the room and sits down next to me. “Why?” She prods. “I don’t wanna talk about it.” I grumble. “That’s okay. Do you want some ice cream?” She says. I nod.


	4. Chapter 4

A few months of wandering, moping, and being without Mike pass by like slugs crawling across hot pavement. I still haven’t removed his contact from my phone, still haven’t ripped all of the pictures of us off my wall. I’ve put together a list of rules about the numbers by now. That if you add a number, it changes the personality depending on the numbers before it. Like a chemical reaction, when adding one variable changes the rest of the substance altogether. That everyone starts off with six numbers, and babies are born with all zeros. I learned that one when I first met my new baby cousin, then a few weeks later another one on my moms side. That the numbers change as the baby develops a personality of their own. That the numbers don’t show up on photographs.

I’ve gotten over Mike, little by little, but I still get a pang in my heart when I’m doing something we used to do together. The school year is over now, since two weeks ago. I look around the bus I’m on. There are only a few people on here. As the bus driver pulls over to a stop with a screech, a girl enters. She’s very odd, for some reason. I don’t know what it is about her. She’s very average, her ginger hair pulled up into a ponytail. There’s nothing special about her facial features, either. I look at her. She moves to the back of the bus and sits down across from me. She looks over at me, and I realize what’s so weird about her. It’s in her eyes. They’re empty, as if she’d never felt an emotion in her life. She looks away and sits, staring at the window. I look over at her wrist. What? Her numbers are all zeros. I’ve only ever seen this on a baby. Does she really not feel anything?

She immediately intrigues me. I try to scoot over to her. “Hey. What’s your name?” I ask. “Maxine.” She answers. Her voice sends shivers down my back. It literally has no feeling to it, as monotonous as if a robot was speaking to me. “O-oh. That’s pretty.” I stutter, taken aback. She doesn’t answer. She scares me, but something about her draws me to her. “Can I have your phone number? Maybe we could text.” I blurt out. I regret it immediately. My face goes beet red. How weird is it to ask for someone’s number thirty seconds after you meet them? Maxine’s face stays completely still, but I notice a split-second flicker in her eyes, like a spark that’s about to light a bonfire. “Okay.” Comes her flat voice, ringing in my ears as she types her number into my phone. “Cool!” I say. I hope she hasn’t noticed how hard I’m blushing. Then again, I doubt she’d care. Her expression hasn’t changed this whole time. 

I get off the bus and head to the coffee shop. Maxine happens to be heading there too. I jog to keep up with her. “So what’s up?” I breathe, panting. She walks really fast. She shrugs. “I’m not following you by the way, I just happen to be going here.” I say. She shrugs again, her eyes facing forward. This is gonna be difficult. I don’t know what I want from her, but I can’t seem to figure her out. “Uh, how come you’re going to the coffee shop?” I question. “Because I like coffee.” She answers. I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to her tone of voice. “O-oh. That’s cool. Um, what’s your name? Wait- never mind, you already answered that.” I blurt. What am I doing? “Why are you so interested with me?” She asks, finally looking at me. Her brown eyes are like voids, so dull that the light almost doesn’t reflect off of them. “Your eyes. I don’t know, um, you’re just interesting.” She flinches, and I tear my gaze away from hers. “Do you mind if I walk with you?” I mumble uncertainty. “Not particularly.” She answers. I do a mental fist pump. “Cool, cool.” I stumble. This is the most awkward conversation I’ve ever had. 

She pushes the door of the shop open, causing a jingle to alert the workers that a customer has arrived. “How old are you?” I urge. “Seventeen.” Maxine says. “Me too!”I reply, a little too excitedly. “I have a feeling you’re not going to leave. What should I call you?” She asks. Her way of speaking is so formal, it makes me feel all the more awkward. “Jane. But my friends call me El.”  
“Okay.” She nods. She walks over to the counter. “May I have a caramel frappe with whipped cream and caramel glaze over it?” She requests. I can see the barista flinch from her voice, but he goes on to make the order. I never would’ve guessed she had a sweet tooth. “Um, and a caramel macchiato for me. Separate order.” I mutter. 

I follow Maxine to a table when we both get our coffee. “Can I sit here?” I ask. She nods, then speaks. “I’ve never met anyone who shows interest in me. Why do you? There’s nothing special about me.” I hesitate, then answer. “I think the fact that there’s nothing special about you makes you special.”I settle. “That’s a paradox.” She says. “Yeah, it is.” I answer. So she does know that she’s weird. Does she realize that she seems to be emotionless, or does she not care? “Um, here’s a joke: what do you call a cow with no legs?” I say. I don’t have a specific reaction that I want to see from her, I just want her to react. She tilts her head in question. “Ground beef!” I blurt. Her eyes glimmer again, but so fast that I almost didn’t notice. “That was very cheesy.” She says. I pause. “Do I have your parmesan to make bad jokes, or are you feda-p with them?” I grin, blushing again. She lets out a snort. “That was really, really bad.” She admits, and the corners of her mouth tilt up just slightly. Maxine’s eyes are shining. I can’t believe that worked! I look over at her wrist. There’s a seven in the midst of all the zeros. 

“Can I tell you something?” I ask her on the way home. Apparently, she lives just a few blocks away from me. “Okay.” She answers. Her voice is still flat and robotic, but there’s an edge of sweetness to it now. Her eyes are still mostly dull, but there’s something different about them. “This is gonna sound crazy, but I can see codes on everyone’s inner wrist. I think they determine personality, they’re just a series of numbers.” I say. She actually looks a little bit interested. I keep going. “I started seeing them a few months ago. Everyone’s are different, except for babies. They’re born with all zeros. They develop numbers as they grow.” I add. “How can you prove it?” She asks me. “I can’t, really. But I once tried to add one to my boyfriend’s row, and he turned really mean.” I pause. “Ex-boyfriend now.”I correct. She nods. “The reason why I’m telling you this is because you had all zeros an hour and a half ago, when I first saw you. That’s why I started talking to you.” I admit. “That makes sense. My mom thinks I’m a sociopath.” Maxine tells. “But why did you say that I “had” all zeros?” She adds. “Because you don’t anymore. Show me your wrist.” I command. She rolls up her coat sleeve and sticks her arm out. “There’s a seven in the middle of all the zeros now. I think it changed when I made you smile a bit.” Maxine frowns. “Is that what it’s like to feel emotions?” She wonders. “I don’t know. Describe it.” I insist. She looks up, then at me. “The world just seems more colorful now.”


	5. Chapter 5

That night, I type Maxine’s number into my phone. I take a deep breath, and text her. The little text bubble pops up:

El: Hi

I wait a few moments. I see the dots that mean she’s typing appear. A few seconds later, she texts. 

Maxine: Hello. 

El: Wyd 

Maxine: I don’t know what that means.

El: What are you doing

Maxine: Oh. 

Maxine: Do you want to face chat? It’s easier to talk that way.

El: K :)

I sigh. I know I met her just today, but for some reason I’m really nervous to talk to her. She makes me nervous. She’s really smart, and I just don’t wanna mess up when talking again. My phone buzzes and I see her contact on my screen. I press ‘accept’ for her call. “Hey.” I greet her when her face pops up, trying to pat down my short, frizzy brown hair. “Hey. What are you doing?” She questions. “Um, I-I was just reading.” I stutter. I’m not about to tell her that I’ve spent the last two hours trying to figure out what to text her. “Why are you getting nervous again? We talked a few hours ago.” Maxine says, eyeing me through the screen. Her voice is really different now, way more normal sounding. “I don’t know. Sorry.” I mumble. She gives a tiny smile. “It’s alright.” She says. It’s not even a whole smile, but it makes her face look so different. She looks away. “Hey, do you want to do something crazy tomorrow?” She asks. “What is it?” I gush, already excited. There’s a long pause. She’s still looking in the other direction. “Let’s dye my hair blue.” She whispers. Her smile is bigger now, and even through the screen I can see a sparkle in her eyes.


	6. Chapter 6

The next morning, I agree to meet up with Maxine at a drugstore. “Hey, can you show me your wrist again?” I ask after we’ve said our hello’s. She tugs up her sleeves and sticks her arm out. Her numbers changed again. It now says 008709 on her wrist. “You have two new numbers! Did something happen yesterday after you went home?” I ask. She frowns. “Um, I had a fight with my mom. Which has never happened before. She actually looked kinda relieved after it, though.” Maxine mutters, looking down. “I think you’re gaining feelings- based on like, life events.” I say. “But why now? Why didn’t it start a long time ago?” I ask. She looks me in the eyes. “I think it’s because I met you.” 

We head in to the drugstore to buy some blue dye for Maxine. “We’re gonna need bleach though, your hair is really dark.” I say. “Okay.” She answers. “You know what? Let’s do me too.” I say. Maxine’s eyes widen, but she makes no objections. “What color?” She asks. I pause, then grin. “Purple.” I declare. Like Kali. I think silently, thinking of my sister who ran away when she was 15, before I was adopted to my now-family. “Ooh.” She smiles. Her face looks so different than it did yesterday. I don’t think she’s average at all, with the way her deep blue eyes sparkle and her dimples set into her face. Her ginger hair is out today, and it cascades over her shoulders, shining with every movement she makes. I look away, blushing furiously. Oh my god. Is this what I think it is? Wait, that wouldn’t happen though. I like boys. I’ve always liked boys. Oh god. I’ve never had a crush on a girl.

We leave the store with a bottle of bleach and two packs of hair dye. My mom is gonna kill me. “Where should we do it?” I ask. She looks up. “Uh, my mom’s not home, so I think we can do it at my place. My mom doesn’t know I’m dying my hair. Um, I’ll walk you.” She says. Oh god. Her mom isn’t home. I look down, my face probably a shade of scarlet by now. 

The walk to Maxine’s house isn’t very long, but it feels like we’ve been walking for hours. When we’re finally at her doorstep, I stop. My mom is definitely gonna kill me. I doubt that I’ll even look good with purple hair. For some reason, though, I don’t really care about any of that. I just wanna do something with Maxine right now.

 

We search up instructions on how to use bleach safely when dying hair. Maxine went ahead and opened a window in her bedroom. It’s very bare. Her walls are white, and she has no decorations on the walls. She has a bed, a chair, a bedside table, a mirror, and a desk. Her closet is a wooden one in her wall. We’re sitting crisscross-applesauce on her floor, me bleaching her hair first. We’re planning to deep condition after this, since I don’t want to kill my hair too much. 

“Oh god, it burns a little.” Maxine says when I put the first glob of paint onto her newly bleached hair. “Yeah, these chemicals will do that to ya.” I mumble. I’m really nervous for when she dyes my hair. I haven’t looked at my reflection in the mirror yet, since I’m scared to see what I look like with my hair so white. Maxine thinks I look insane. She looks like a totally different person, and she’s one of the only people I’ve seen that actually looks good with bleached white hair. It offsets her pale skin tone and makes her look like an ancient ice princess. “Done.” I say. I can’t make out separate strands of hair anymore, just clumps of blue globs. Maxine turns around and walks over to her mirror.   
“Wow. This is so weird.” She says, grinning. She walks back over to me. “Here, lets do yours now.” She insists.

We’re standing with our backs facing the mirror. “One…” Maxine starts. “Two…” I say after. I’m nervous. “Three!” We shout at once, jumping as we turn around to face the mirror. Woah. My hair is a pastel lavender, and hers is an ocean-like teal. I’ve never seen myself as the type to do stuff like this, but I don’t regret it. “This is so cool!” Maxine exclaims. “I know, right?” I shout at equal volume. I look over at her and take her arm. “Woah.” I whisper. She looks down. “What is it?” She wonders. “They’ve changed again. Like right as I looked at your arm. I’ve never actually seen them change, except with my boyf…” I pause. “Ex-boyfriend.” Maxine looks at me sympathetically. “Do you wanna talk about it?” She asks. “Not much to talk about.” I said. “We were really close, but I asked him if I could do an experiment with my power, and he let me. It was like a switch turned off, his whole personality changed. One thing he said was sweet, and the next was just awful. I just… it was all my fault.” I choke out, falling to the floor. “And I haven’t been in touch with him since, so I can’t help but wonder how his family is doing with his changed self. It’s all because of me. I’m so stupid.” I stop. I look down, and realize that there’s a small puddle of tears on my pants. 

“Take that back.” Maxine commands, sitting on the floor next to me. “What?” I question, looking up. “You’re not stupid. It wasn’t your fault. You said yourself that he let you. He allowed you to do that. You didn’t force him to, it wasn’t your fault that he changed because of it.” She replies. I pause. “Thanks.” I smile, wiping my cheeks. “And I really don’t like you putting yourself down. You’re my first friend.” She adds. I force a smile. I think I’ve just been friend zoned. Maxine puts her hand on my lap, then blushes and takes it away. Oh god. She’s really cute.She looks away, then back at me, her blue hair swishing around her face. “Let’s decorate my room.”

We spend the rest of the afternoon making paper cut-out flowers and ribbons. She has a Polaroid, so we take a few selfies and paste them on her wall. I run to the store across the street from her house and buy her a succulent, which she later names Lisa. She laughs so often now, and she’s probably the most headstrong person I’ve ever met. So much can change in two days.


End file.
